


Nightcap

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 08:21:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair says he can't sleep. He asks Jim to help him out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightcap

## Nightcap

by Mazal HaMidbar

Boys theirs, words mine.

This is my first Sentinel story, and I've only seen about one-third of the 65 episodes, so I would be interested in feedback as to whether this seems plausible and with believable voices; my email is mazalhamidbar@hotmail.com so let me know yes, no or maybe so.

This is an excerpt from a much larger work-in-progress; all one needs to know to read this, however, is that shortly after TSBBS, Jim and Blair go on an independent fact-finding mission to Europe and have been staying in one of the old-fashioned hotels that has only one small double bed per room.

* * *

Blair was particularly restless that night as he and Jim lay in the double bed. He tossed and turned, whimpered and moaned, and Jim, even with the white-noise generator, his favorite earplugs and all his senses dialed down, couldn't sleep either. 

Well, I suppose there are some disadvantages to sleeping next to someone whom you want to ... but Jim wasn't ready to finish that sentence yet, not even in his mind. 

Finally, Blair leaned over and whispered into Jim's ear, softly and perhaps, or perhaps not, more sensuously than he had intended, "I can't sleep." 

"Sandburg, you've got a firm grasp on the obvious tonight," Jim replied, sounding, to his dismay, more irritated than he meant to. "You can't sleep, and, of course, I can't sleep either. And, even if I had been sleeping, you've now woken me up." 

"I'm sorry," Blair said, and Jim was instantly ashamed and sympathetic. 

"I'm sorry, too. What can I do?" 

"There is one thing, actually. And, and, it's particularly reliable in my experience. And, and, I could just do it myself, but ..." Blair was staring at Jim, and, uncharacteristically, not speaking, just waiting for Jim to take his meaning. 

It didn't take long. And if Jim had been asleep before, he wasn't now. "Are you talking about ... what I think you're talking about?" 

"What do you think I'm talking about?" 

"Well, it's something ... relaxing ... that eases tension ... reduces stress ... and I'm guessing that you learned how to do it by around the time of your bar mitzvah, if not earlier." 

"Actually, quite a bit earlier, but ..." Blair was now grinning, apparently at the memory - a story that Jim would get out of him, eventually, but ... not now. 

Jim didn't reply, and Blair stopped smiling, and, again, stopped talking. Instead, face uncharacteristically devoid of expression, he slowly stroked the fingers of Jim's left hand, one by one, over and over, and this time, somehow, Jim didn't think he was misreading the message at all. 

"I want you to do it for me," he said, darting his tongue out over his lower lip, which suddenly looked to Jim to be even fuller than usual. "Will you?" 

Jim swallowed, hard, once, twice, and then, involuntarily licking his own lips, he said, "Are you sure we're ready for this, Chief?" 

"I - I think we are. Well, I am, anyway. And ... I was kindof hoping that you were, too. But if I'm wrong, then, well, then please just forget this ever happened, man..." 

"No," Jim said thickly. "You're not wrong." 

"Oh, good. I'm not wrong. Scared as hell, but not wrong." 

"Well, that makes two of us. And, about the scared thing? One of my best friends in college had a saying, she said that some of the most important things in life, if you wait until you're totally ready, you'll never do them. I think this qualifies." 

"So." 

"So. How do you want to do this? I mean, where?" 

"Uh, Jim, we're already in bed, so that's sortof a good start, don't you think?" 

"All right," Jim said, mentally taking command. "Unexplored territory here, for me and probably also for you, but I think I've got it scouted out now. So just lie down in front of me on your left side." 

Blair immediately complied, pushing his boxers below his waist, and Jim quickly moved behind him on his left side, doing the same, gently leaning Blair's head into the crook of his large, muscular left arm and moving his right hand into position in front. 

Jim's fingers brushed softly, once, twice, three times, but didn't grasp. Then they did. 

"I was going to ask whether you were ready, but somehow I don't think I need to." 

Blair turned his face up to look at him, and the typical impish grin was back. "You know how you're always telling me that I talk too much? Well, I think this is one of those occasions, to coin a rotten clich, when actions speak more loudly than words." 

"So, I'll act." Apparently Blair agreed with the sentiment, because by now he had tilted his face in such a way that it was an unmistakable request for a kiss. 

And so Jim leaned over him and gently pressed his lips against Blairs, staying dry, staying closed, simply exploring, slowly, gently. Blair's lips were like two delicious strawberry marshmallows, he thought, or like the two most comfortable pillows one could possibly imagine, and he nibbled on them with his own lips, first the top, then the bottom, top, bottom, then pressed them both firmly for several seconds. 

This was no time to be demanding, Jim thought, rather, it's imperative to be the perfect gentleman, thinking back to how Sally had raised him, then almost laughing to himself because he knew that Sally could never have envisioned him employing that philsophy to this particular situation. 

Blair sighed just then, and parted those amazing lips. And Jim gently slid his tongue between, and only then at the same time with his right hand began a pumping action -squeeze and up, squeeze and up, squeeze and up, then on the downstroke sweeping his long fingers down and below, down and below, doing what he knew he would have liked. And thinking, again, slightly crazily, that there was a definite advantage - namely anatomical knowledge, similarily and experience-- to having another man do this for one rather than a woman. 

And then he wasn't consciously thinking of anything at all except exploring Blair's mouth in a long, searching kiss, licking the upper palate with its row of ridges, every top tooth, top and then sides, every bottom tooth, top and then sides, the impossibly soft area below Blair's own tongue, the insides of both cheeks. Over and over and over. 

Exploring, imprinting, committing to memory, every milimeter, every cell, just like the crack Army scout he used to be and exactly like the Sentinel he would always be. Only half consciously, he began to turn up every dial, getting, perhaps dangerously, to 10. 

Then, worried about a zoneout - and knowing Blair was in no position to guide him out of it just then - and needing to breathe, Jim took a minute to come up for air, and in spite of himself, laughed out loud. 

"What's so funny, man? I thought we were doing some serious stuff here." But Blair's tone was friendly, and maybe - Jim hoped - even loving, and definitely not irritated. 

"I just couldn't help thinking ... back when Naomi said that your favorite food was tongue ... now I know that she really meant that your favorite food was... " 

"Yeah. And remember what I just said to you about actions rather than words." 

Jim took the hint and, this time, really showed Blair what he could do. 

Gentleness gave way to passion, then hunger, then desperation as he thrust his tongue in and out of Blair's mouth in rhythm to what his hand was doing three feet farther down. In and out, squeeze and up, in and out, squeeze and up, in and out, squeeze and up, and, scared or not, unexplored territory or no, Blair must have liked it, must have really really liked, it, because then he was stiffening, and then he was groaning, and then he was coming, all over Jim's hand. 

They broke apart then, temporarily, Blair panting heavily and having rolled over onto his stomach, Jim almost in a trance state as he brought his hand up to his mouth and slowly, carefully licked off every drop. It was salty, it was bitter, but it was all Blair, and it was the best thing he had ever tasted. 

"Wow, man," Blair said. "That was awesome. I think that was the very definition of awesome. There's a picture of you next to the definition of awesome in the dictionary in my head." 

"Glad to help, to - so to speak - lend a helping hand." 

Blair suddenly sat up against the headboard. "But what about you? One good turn deserves another, and all that." 

Jim was swallowing the last smidgen of Blair's semen. "Don't worry about it, buddy." 

"Not worrying, just ... sharing." 

"No. I've got it ... er, handled." Jim was also sitting up in the bed by then and, without having consciously decided to, had already begun taking care of himself . 

Blair, noticing this, took his own advice about actions over words, threw his arms around Jim's neck and kissed him with surprising force, using his own tongue like a piston into and out of Jim's mouth, not breaking off contact until, between Jim's hand and Blair's tongue, Jim achieved the same tranquilizing effect he had just given Blair. 

Seconds after it happened, before Jim had even caught his breath, Blair dived down and greedily began licking Jim's hand clean. 

"Think I'm going to have a second favorite food from now on," Blair said when he was done. "Fresh-churned cream." 

A couple of minutes of silence passed. Jim was still sitting up, half-dazed. Blair climbed into his lap and faced him and straddled him and hugged him. 

"I think I'm going to have the best night's sleep ever," he said softly, turning serious for the first time since they had started. 

"Me too. But ... " It was Jim's turn to be serious. "What happens tomorrow night? And the night after? And when we get back to Cascade?" 

"What do you want to happen, Jim?" 

"I want ... what you want. What do you want?" 

"Uh ... I'm going to assume this isn't a quiz show, and so therefore there's no wrong or right answer. And so I'm going to say, I want the same, and different, and more, and lots of it ... however you want, whatever you want, as much as you want, for as long as you want. Which I'm hoping is going to be a while." 

"Well, I'm just about in the arms of Morpheus by now, myself," Jim said, suddenly yawning himself. "So I'm not much for long-range planning at the moment. But I guess I'm going to say that, without having to be specific, I think that 'a while' is a real good definition." 

But Blair had achieved his previously stated goal. He had slipped off Jim's lap, had rolled onto his back, and was already dozing off, looking for all the world like a disheveled, naughty, satisfied cherub. 

So he didn't hear Jim when he said what he had been wanting to say since, he finally admitted to himself,long, long before they even had begun to think of coming to Krakow. "Want to be in your arms, baby ... for a while. For a long while. Like forever." 

* * *

End Nightcap by Mazal HaMidbar: mazalhamidbar@hotmail.com

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